Why Do We Write?
I have a confession that is hardly groundbreaking for anyone who has ever tried to put words on paper. But I must say it: I don’t know why I write, and half the time I hardly think of myself as a writer.
I am an aimless writer.
The only thing I know about myself is that I have to write. Which form my writing takes is anyone’s guess, but it’ll take a form eventually because I just have to get the words out.
But I don’t know why I write or what I even want to write, much less what to consistently write about. This makes me question myself in more ways than one.
Sometimes I drive myself into a spiral, which then turns into a crisis of craft. Imagine imposter syndrome times a hundred: your soul says you were born to write and your mind tells you to get a real job because you suck. Some days you trust one part of you more than the other. Other days it feels like both parts are lying.
It’s a huge problem for me, and one that I don’t know how to solve.
But didn’t Orwell already cover this?
Yes, but Orwell thinks us lazy.
In his Why I Write essay, he explains the four reasons why a writer writes: sheer egoism, aesthetic…
